Seifer & Zell Forever
by Goddess Kes
Summary: Part of the Kenome fic re-write challenge. Seifer/Zell, or, Sell. Post-Game.


Seifer looked out across the cafeteria, tapping his gunblade against the cheap Formica table in a steady staccato rhythm. His eyes were fixed firmly on the door. Few students were scattered across the cafeteria; Trepies traded cards, a pigtailed girl read a book and glanced up nervously at the entrance from time to time; Raijin ate several dozen hotdogs. With the magnanimous forgiveness from Commander Squall, Seifer could sit in this cafeteria; Seifer could train for the SeeD exam; Seifer could throw his weight around. And yet, and yet.

Seifer would have liked to confiscate the non-Balamb regulation cards and give them to Raijin, like he'd used to. He's have liked to hunt down Quistis upstairs grading papers and insinuate that the only teaching she was any good for was in the sack. He'd have liked to lock a newcomer in the training center for half an hour without any weapons training for not tucking his shirt in. And possibly give him a swirlie.

How had Balamb gotten so boring? Was it simply that he, Seifer Almasy, was now simply too goddamn interesting for this place? At least being a mercenary was good old-fashioned selfishness. He didn't think, after tagging along with the rise and fall of four separate sorceresses, that he was exactly qualified to try and help out anybody at this point. No. Ushering in an era of magical advancement, enhancement, and change hadn't worked out so very well in the end. Better to just fight for money. If he could pass the exam, it would be very good money.

Fuujin slammed the table with her palms suddenly, mouth screwed tight with disapproval.

"Tapping," she explained. "STOP."

Seifer smirked at her. Fuujin held her hard, dark gaze. Seifer's smirk faltered a little bit. He slid Hyperion across the table and down onto his lap protectively. Fuujin tossed her head impatiently, gave a little satisfied snort, and walked across the room. She sat, perched lightly on the edge of the window ledge near the door, in a way that made her look particularly petite and harmless. With a quick gesture and a muttered word, the little pigtailed girl's bookmark flew across the room, landing prettily at Fuujin's feet. She picked it up slowly and made a soft, tentative smile at the flustered girl.

"Ya know, Fuujin's good at that picking up chicks thing," Raijin said conversationally, around a mouthful of hotdog. "Maybe she should give you some advice-" Seifer jerked his head to face his third in command, glowering. "Or me," Raijin amended. "Mostly me."

This world. After stepping aside and practically rolling out the red carpet for Squall and his loser friends to come crash the party at Lunatic Pandora, they were next to impossible to cow like proper henchmen. All because they were worried about him because he was ensorcelled and stuff… well, it was hard hold the firm reins of command after being some kind of time compression ghost whipped sorceress lapdog psycho. Or something. Seifer was probably lucky to have friends at all, much less at a place like Balamb, where the hotdogs were excellent. Either everyone was going to fear and shun Seifer, which was cool in books but lame for building the resume, or he was accepted back into the fold, effectively neutered. A neutered, sorceress-less lap dog. Lame.

And then the doors opened and a spill of blonde hair and loud noise tumbled into the line.

"Zell, we just ate at your Mom's," Squall said flatly.

"Yeah, like an hour ago? I'm starving. And there's always room for hotdogs."

"Can you chew this time?" Selphie wrinkled her nose.

"Hey, guys." Irvine entered from the other door. "Nida said you just got back, so I thought I'd say hey. Quistis is on the way down."

"Why is it we only ever go anywhere in threes? There's so many of us. We could all have an outing somewhere, theoretically. Go to the mall at Esthar or something." Selphie wondered.

"Probably limited technological capabilities, as far as graphics for a first gen system, ya know." Raijin said around a mouthful of hotdog. Seifer kicked him, casually, as he rose to his feet.

"Commander," Seifer made a mocking bow. From the line, Zell's eyes darted in his direction.

"Seifer." Squall put a hand to his head. "I'm tired. Can this wait?"

"I can't say hello to our fearless leader?" Seifer put a hand to his chest. "I'm wounded."

"You should be grateful you're even here," Quistis walking up from behind Seifer, adjusting her glasses. "But at least you've stopped waiving around your gunblade 24/7. It seemed to be highly compensating."

Seifer involuntarily glanced at the chair next to the table, where Hyperion was out of sight. "Er, yeah. Immature." he echoed, kicking Raijin pre-emptively.

"I don't want him to be grateful. I want him to shut up and go to class." Squall waved away the hot dog Zell offered him. Seifer decided to ignore that. Back at the orphanage, that loser never shared his food. That had sparked the whole infamous 'Mog' situation, from which his backside still stung on cold rainy nights. Damn Matron and her sorcererous whippins.

"What's up, baby? You got a headache from playin' cards too long with Ma?" Zell pushed up on his tippy toes, looking Squall full in the face.

Squall made a wrinkly scrunch-nose expression. "Direct trading rules give me a headache," he said. "Your Mom took my Ifrit card. It was barely worth getting your card." Zell covered his hurt expression by busying himself, applying heaps of ketchup to the pile of hot dogs.

"I went to class all week! I took notes. Notes." Seifer stretched out his hands. "I practically have carpel tunnel, oh fearless leader. As per our agreement." He casually knocked over a bottle of mustard onto Zell's hot dogs. Zell caught it reflexively, saving his second supper from disgusting yellow perversion. He glared daggers at Seifer and defiantly placed an entire hot dog into his mouth. Selphie gagged a little.

"I wish I had made you take a vow of silence as a condition of our agreement. I wish I could go back in time and tell past Squall to keep future Squall from getting a huge headache, all the time." Squall sat down dramatically. Behind him, Irvine mouthed 'Drama Queen.' Selphie snickered.

"Rinoa?" Fuujin inquired, discretely tucking a phone number into the front pocket of her blouse.

"Timber, I think," Selphie said. "With her Dad."

"Even though they don't get along," Quistis said archly.

"Probably because it's hard to write Rinoa without bashing her or getting out of character for dialogue, ya know," Raijin said to nobody. Fuujin took his chocolate milk. Zell took his last hot dog.

"Anyway, how's the family, chicken wuss?" Seifer sat down in the chair closest to Squall oh-so-casually – just before Zell could.

"You're an annoying prick. Why do you still call me insults from the orphanage days?" Zell sat across from Seifer and fluffed his napkin out across his lap.

"Probably because they still work," Seifer admitted. "I am, at heart, a lazy fellow."

"No kidding," muttered Quistis, examining her nails.

"Don't you have to go make lesson plans? Or grade papers? Or something teacherly? All I ever see you do is advise and flirt with students." Seifer snapped.

"Whoa there," said Irvine.

"Cause you're a cowboy. I get it." Selphie said brightly.

"You love it, sugar." Irvine leered.

"I mean, sure. Look at my options. Squall's taken, Seifer's got that whole Magical Girl fetish thing going on, Raijin's practically a combat idiot savant… "

"Ya know, most fans prefer Quistis or Rinoa. So do the one liner characters." Raijin said mournfully.

Fuujin tried to look sympathetically down Selphie's shirt.

"Maybe if you dressed a little differently," Quistis suggested hesitantly.

"Dressed little," Fuujin agreed.

"Oh, could we maybe go shopping? I'm tired of only ever visiting weapon's shops with those guys. Sometimes a girl just needs some hooker boots in her life."

"I couldn't agree more." Quistis smiled warmly.

"More," echoed Fuujin.

"Gimme the keys," Selphie tugged at Zell's arm. He dropped them into her open palm. "We're going shopping."

"Ya know… can I come? I feel a little token character-y…" Raijin asked.

The three girls smiled politely.

"THREE ONLY," Fuujin said.

After the girls left, Irvine sat down on Seifer's other side.

"So, how's class going?" Irvine asked encouragingly. "I'm very good at books. I can totally tutor you."

"Seifer's very smart," Zell said between bites. "He just has a piss poor attitude problem."

"What does that even mean?" Squall asked.

"I don't know, my Mom said it." Zell admitted.

"It means he's a wild stallion whose spirit needs to be broken," Irvine suggested.

"I am seriously going to stab you and then shoot you and then stab you again if you don't stop with the cowboy thing. I can do it. I have a gunblade. It's made for that shit."

"I almost kind of like you now, Seifer," Zell said, not looking up from his tray. Seifer watched him eat for a second.

Squall sighed. "Whatever. I'm going to go brood by myself because it's in character."

He sauntered slowly out of the cafeteria. Zell paused, hot dog half raised to his mouth.

"This is way too gay, ya know." Raijin muttered. He slid over a few seats. "You want to play cards?"

"Isn't Professor Trepe the greatest? I sign up for all her classes. I followed her to a bathroom once. I would like to keep her hair in a box under my pillow," the girl said brightly.

"Ya know, just deal."

"Admiring the view?" Seifer snapped.

"What?" Zell dropped his hot dog. "I don't! I won't! I… ah… I'm insulted! I was just watching his back!"

"…" Seifer looked at Zell for a moment.

"I wish you were dead," Zell said, sitting back down calmly. All was well and peaceful. Seifer didn't fidget. Zell ate at normal human pace. They watched Raijin lose badly at Triple Triad. They snickered at freshmen that came too late to eat hot dogs, that had to eat those lame hot dog buns microwaved with a slice of cheap deli meat and cheese whiz that they tried to pass off as a Philly cheese steak. Seifer was starting to this this was kind of nice. Like maybe they could sit next to each other and eat lunch sometimes, and maybe go work out together and totally go to the beach and beat up some fish or something sometime maybe, if Squall didn't show up.

Then Seifer, being Seifer, fucking ruined everything.

"Squall and Zell, sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-"

"-fucking KILL YOU-" was all he heard before he went flying in a mess of hot dogs and flipped table.

"Go melt! Melt! Stop existing! I! Augh! Gah!"

"You got mustard on my COAT-" Seifer brandished Hyperion.

"That's it! This is it! I want a duel! I want to fight you until you're dead or I feel better. When I kick your ass, you better keep your stupid, stupid mouth shut." Zell waved his arms wildly.

"Fine, spaz! But when I win, you'll be my slave for a week! And you'll start by hand cleaning my duster!"

"It's July! JULY! You don't even need long sleeves. You must be roasting alive in your own idiot juice-" Zell, conscientious citizen that he was, began picking up the debris. He also apologized to the six or so students he had sent sprawling with his freak strength. Most of them minded less when he picked them up, one by one, apologizing and flexing one well-muscled arm. Well. Except Nida. But he's kind of a bitch and no one noticed him there anyway.

"Tomorrow! Right before lunch. Training center. Be there or be a chicken wuss." Seifer swept out of the room, wishing he had a better exit line.


End file.
